


i want to write you a song

by shirbot



Series: i want to write you a song [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, rockstar!adrien au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 09:27:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7355365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirbot/pseuds/shirbot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Marinette can sing. Rockstar!Adrien AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i want to write you a song

**Author's Note:**

> this is for sabinechengs on tumblr because she asked me for a rockstar!adrien au fic.
> 
> also my first fic on here how exciting!! hope you guys enjoy!!!

 

Adrien blinks at the envelope in Nathalie’s outstretched hand. “This is from my father?”

Nathalie nods, clearing her throat almost nervously. “Yes, ah, he… had this especially made… for you.”

“Um… tell him, thank you – for me – I guess,” Adrien replies, grabbing the envelope – still in disbelief and still not quite sure what his father got for him. Definitely not a pen.

Nathalie gives him a stiff nod and a quiet “happy birthday” before retreating from his room once again.

Plagg zips out from his hiding place as Adrien flops onto his desk chair, staring at the blank envelope in his hand.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Open it!” Plagg urges.

Adrien tears the envelope open as carefully as he can, pulling out two items: a CD and a piece of paper with what looks like a poem or, rather, song lyrics. _He had this especially made for you_ , Nathalie’s words run through his head. His father… wrote him a song? Or at least _had_ it made for him.

He inserts the CD into his computer and waits for the song to play, wondering what exactly his father got for him. Maybe it’s a new song to add to his album.

When the singer hits the first note, he’s taken aback. No, this is definitely not a new Adrien Agreste™ song. It’s slow and soft – not that he doesn’t have any slow and soft songs, but this one is different. It reminds him of the lullabies his mother used to sing to him.

The singer’s voice flows out of his speakers, her soft soprano filling up the empty spaces of his too big room, settling into his chest. Her beautiful voice makes this beautiful song even better, and if he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine himself eight years old again, tucked into bed as his mother’s lullaby paints magical tales in the dimness of his room.

The song fades into silence and Adrien hastily wipes away a couple stray tears. His father has really outdone himself this time.

He wonders if he should mention this to Gabriel, but knowing the man, he wouldn’t want to talk about something so sentimental, so _frivolous_.

So Adrien bottles this moment up, tucking the song right by his heart, and decides never to bring this up to his father. Even if one question continues to nudge at his thoughts.

_Who is the singer?_

* * *

 

Papers fly everywhere, followed by a soft _oof!_ Adrien apologizes profusely as he rushes to gather his papers, looking up to see a blushing Marinette pick herself up from the ground. She hurries to grab her things as well, determinedly avoiding eye contact with him.

“Um, s-sorry, Adrien,” she stutters.

Adrien picks up the last of the fallen items – a notebook with “Music” written on its cover that is most definitely not his – and moves to return it to her, but she is already rushing away down the hall.

Adrien sighs and tucks the notebook into his bag, reminding himself to return it to her during class later. Without peeking.

Even though it feels as heavy as a ton of bricks in his bag. Even though his desire to see what’s inside is making his fingers twitch.

Nope.

No peeking.

* * *

 

He peeks.

He can’t really help it. Adrien knows it’s basically an invasion of privacy, but Marinette is such a mystery to him that it’s difficult to resist any clue as to who she really is.

So he pulls her notebook out during class, trying to ignore the fact that she is literally right behind him, and surreptitiously flips through pages upon pages of lyrics and chords.

Really good lyrics and chords. Everyone knows that Marinette is an aspiring songwriter but Adrien never knew just how good she really was.

But – enough. He quickly shuts the book; his curiosity has been sated. As a musician, he knows how precious and sometimes private your own songs can be, and now he feels guilt crawling up his neck in the form of a blush. He’ll return her notebook right when class ends.

When the bell rings, Adrien turns around and places the notebook on her desk as she gathers her belongings, nearly causing her to drop them in surprise.

“Sorry I didn’t give this back earlier,” he says, sheepishly scratching the cropped hair on the back of his head.

“Oh,” a blush colors her cheeks when she realizes what exactly he’s returning. “Thank you.”

“They’re really good,” he blurts, feeling his face heat up as well. “S-sorry. I know I had no right to go through your stuff but… you’re really talented, Marinette. Do… do you sing too?”

Her blush deepens even more and she hastily shakes her head. “No, I don’t.”

For some reason, he doesn’t believe her.

* * *

 

Marinette is still reeling from her exchange with Adrien yesterday as she takes her seat next to Alya – who, having heard every single detail about it over the phone, doesn’t even bother to comment on Marinette’s dazed state.

Adrien looked through her music! He _liked_ it!

And, as if she hadn’t had enough to fangirl over for the next _decade_ , Adrien enters the classroom _singing her song_ , the one she’d recorded for his birthday. She’d thought that maybe he had so many gifts from his fans that he never got to hers, but it seems like he received it after all.

Alya, recognizing the song, perks up and leans over their desk to slyly ask, “Hey, Adrien, new song?”

Adrien grins up at her. “Nah, my father wrote it for me for my birthday.”

Alya frowns in confusion and opens her mouth to refute, but Marinette kicks at her shin, earning an indignant _ow!_ in response. She beats Alya to it.

“That’s really nice, Adrien,” Marinette says, the most she’s probably ever said to him without stuttering.

His smile as he thanks her makes him practically glow and she can’t help but swoon as he turns back around in his seat.

“Um, excuse me, what was that?”

Marinette blinks out of her Adrien-induced haze and looks over at Alya. “What was what?”

“That!” Alya hisses, gesturing vaguely in Adrien’s direction. “Why didn’t you tell him it was your song?”

Marinette sighs and crosses her arms on the desk. “He just looked so happy that it was from his father.”

She rests her head on her arms, tilting it to glance up at Alya. “I don’t want to take that away from him.”

* * *

 

“Liar!”

Marinette squeaks and nearly drops the stack of library books in her arms as she makes her way to their designated shelves.

“Sorry!” Adrien whispers frantically, hurrying to help her carry the books. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay,” she assures him, blushing as their arms brush where he moves to grab her books. Rather than try to protest, she simply continues down the shelves, swiftly slotting the books in Adrien’s arms back in their correct places.

“So… you can sing,” he remarks after a minute of silence, nearly startling her again. “Um… I mean! I heard you humming… earlier.”

Marinette blushes, willing herself not to look at him. “Oh! I-I’m not that good.”

She feels him move closer, ducking so that their eyes are level. He’s smiling at her and even blushing a little and it’s like her heart has melted into a puddle by her feet.

“Well if that was only your humming, I can’t wait to hear your actual singing.”

* * *

 

He sometimes catches Marinette softly humming to herself during class now.

Adrien knows he makes her nervous for some unknown reason, so all he does is smile secretly to himself as he listens. He doesn’t want her to stop.

* * *

 

Adrien absently swivels in his chair as yet another demo plays through the speakers. His father, stationed in front of the soundboard, glances over at him, as if trying to gauge his reaction just by observing his face.

“This one?” Gabriel asks.

Adrien purses his lips and shakes his head. “I’m still not feeling it.”

As part of another publicity stunt, Agreste Records had held a contest, asking fans and aspiring songwriters to submit a demo of a song for _the_ Adrien Agreste to sing. Hundreds sent in their songs but his father had assembled a team to narrow it down to twenty. Now it was up to Adrien to pick the winner.

“Well, we’re on the last demo, Adrien,” Gabriel states, looking as resigned as Adrien feels. “Even if you don’t like any, we have to choose one.”

“Then let’s hope this last one’s good,” Adrien grumbles.

The demo begins to play and–

Adrien bolts upright.

“Adrien?”

It’s _her_. It’s the singer of his father’s song. He glances over at Gabriel, who remains as stone-faced as ever.

But… why would his father allow a singer he knows to be a part of this contest? Wouldn’t that be unfair?

Adrien frowns, pressing pause. “ _Père_ , who submitted this?”

Gabriel squints at the list on his clipboard. “It says here, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Adrien plops back down into his seat. _Marinette_. Marinette has been his mystery singer all this time. He’s torn between gaping at his father and grinning like an idiot.

He assumes it’s something like a mix of the two because his father almost looks concerned. “Adrien? Do you know her?”

_Don’t you?_ “She’s a classmate.”

Adrien’s thoughts return to his father’s song. Why would his father ask Marinette, of all people, to lend her vocals? Marinette, whom he’s probably never even met in his life?

Maybe all this time, it wasn’t his _father’s_ song. It was Marinette’s.

Adrien presses play, letting her song – and voice – wash over him, like a lullaby, like magic.

“It’s good,” his father comments, thoughtful. Impressed.

“Yeah,” Adrien agrees, thoughts still spinning in his head, “she is.”

* * *

 

Someone grabs at her wrist just as she exits the classroom, practically dragging her down the hall before she can even distinguish who it is. She looks up at the back of the person’s head as they continue pulling her to who-knows-where, immediately recognizing who it is. She sits behind him every day, after all.

“A-Adrien?!”

Adrien doesn’t say a word, doesn’t glance at the other students clearly staring at them, doesn’t even look back at her. His touch, though extremely gentle, practically burns into the skin around her wrist.

They enter an empty classroom, where he finally lets her go, looking sheepish as he does so.

“Sorry to drag you off like that,” he apologizes. She notices that he does that a lot – apologize.

She fidgets, twisting her hands nervously. “It’s okay… Is something wrong?”

“No! No,” he insists, waving his hands frantically. “Nothing like that. I just… um. I needed to talk to you.”

He sighs. Why was he so awkward?

Adrien moves to one of the large desks and sits at the edge, patting the spot next to him as an invitation for Marinette to sit as well. She joins him, far enough away so that she doesn’t combust from such close proximity but close enough to hear his soft voice.

“When I was little, my _maman_ used to sing lullabies to me every night before I went to sleep,” he tells her, keeping his gaze straight ahead. “You already know this, but on my birthday, my father gave me a song. And it reminded me so much of her.”

His eyes flit briefly to her face before he launches into the first verse of his father’s song — well, Marinette’s song.

“I don’t really do the song justice,” he insists, stopping after that verse. “I’ve been looking for the original singer ever since I first heard her voice. I thought, if I ever found her, I’d ask her if she could sing the song just once for me.”

When he turns to look at her, Marinette realizes that he knows. He knows that his father didn’t write that song for him. She did.

“Why didn’t you tell me that it was your song?” he asks.

She stares down at her lap, legs kicking idly. “You looked so happy that it was from your father. I didn’t want to ruin that.”

It hits Adrien again how amazing this girl is. How talented and brave and kind she is. He wants to be her friend; he hopes he already is.

“So, can you?” he suddenly asks.

She looks up at him with wide eyes, a little confused, a little in awe. It reminds him of a different time, of rain and umbrellas. “Can I what?”

His smile is the most tender she has ever seen, almost as if he’s reserved it just for her, and his gaze softens as he replies.

“Sing for me.”

Marinette swears she falls in love with him all over again. But, there’s no time to dwell on that. It’s not every day the love of her life asks her to sing for him.

So she starts off softly, hesitant, as she’s only ever sung for Alya, her parents, and Tikki. But when she meets Adrien’s gaze, his reassuring smile, she sings just a little bit louder. This is _her_ song and Adrien _likes it_. There’s nothing to be nervous about.

Her voice is even better in person, Adrien thinks, letting it comfort him like a lullaby, like magic.

He joins her at the chorus, his deeper baritone supporting her higher soprano, their harmonies filling the space between them. When he catches her eye, they’re both smiling, and it feels even better than magical.

It feels like home.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> you can find me on tumblr as @adribug.


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